Polly's Date
by UnderdogFan1254
Summary: Polly's got a date, and Underdog caught a crook with a similar name. He's reasonably a bit nervous about his roommate's safety.


a/n:

you know, there are three fics i can think of where Polly is a major character? _The Spanking _which… is, uh, gross and also states Polly as Underdog's sister, which is even more of a yikes. and then these two i read on not-ffn? uh, one was some weird time-travel thing where Underdog was a child as Underdog which is a HUGE yikes, and the other uhhh had Polly in some Involentary Passionate Hugging and a fake suicide plot.

oh! and then that comic on dA where she wears a swimsuit for most of it and just doesn't wash her hair? that one was pretty strange and also very hard to read

anyway i crave good Polly-important fics (especially with my very niche headcanons) so here's a bit of the Dognamic Duo being a couple of idiots and Polly getting herself a partner (bc we stan an ace Underdog!)

* * *

Polly wasn't usually a woman very sucked into her phone. At least, much less compared to that idiot roommate of hers, Shoeshine.

"I gotta stay in the moment forever," she'd once explained, "I'm a reporter."

"Even off the clock?" laughed Shoeshine.

"It's a habit," Polly laughed back. She elbowed Shoeshine in the bicep and smiled herself. "Don't you pretend like you don't rhyme off _your _clock."

Occasionally, Polly would get in trances, but that was to read news or check weather. Not very much typing was involved. So it was a very strange sight indeed to see Polly scrunched up on her end of the couch, typing right away into her phone.

Shoeshine usually quite enjoyed his very tuned hearing, but whenever there were repeated, very small sounds, he despised it. So he was vaguely paying attention to Polly, and sometimes he glanced over and twitched his ear. Polly didn't notice, or at the very least, she didn't care.

The episode of the show Shoeshine was so-trying to keep all his attention on cut to a commercial. He sighed, twitched his ears one last time, and faced Polly. She was still scrunched up and texting. She stopped a moment and beamed. Shoeshine felt the edge of his mouth twitch though forced himself not to smile. He placed his arm on the couch's and rested his head on his knuckle.

"What're you up to, anyway?"

Polly laughed airly and sat up, pushing her knees outward, though not taking her feet off the couch. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Shoeshine furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, "I would!"

Polly kept smiling and placed her phone onto her thigh. "Fine. ...I think I have The Crush, Shoeshine."

"Oh, boy," Shoeshine laughed, "What's their name?"

"Sam."

"Good name, good name," Shoeshine smiled.

Polly nodded. "We have a date tonight, actually. Seraphine at seven."

"Good place, good place!" Shoeshine exclaimed, "Let's try not to get kicked out this time, huh?"

"_Let's?" _Polly repeated, though she was still smiling.

"I don't want you getting jumped."

Polly chuckled. "You say that like every time we go to a bar you _don't _get blackout drunk."

"I get angry drunk," Shoeshine defended.

"You get _sleepy _and _clingy _drunk," Polly corrected, voice edged with laughter. She then grabbed her phone off her leg and stood. She adjusted the back of her shirt and turned around, placing one foot on the edge of the purple couch, adjusting her shorts. "So you're third-wheeling me and I can't change your mind about it, huh?"

"Polly, if I ever wanted to date someone, I would let you make it up."

Polly rolled her eyes. "Comforting. I'll vandalize your next job resume."

Shoeshine laughed. "You shouldn't threaten the man who does your laundry, you know."

"My name's on the lease!" Polly retorted, circling around the back of the couch and heading toward her room.

"...shit, you're right."

Polly chuckled. "Get out of here, you rapscallion."

"Good one!" Shoeshine responded just as Polly slammed her door shut.

With nothing left for Shoeshine to watch, he stood himself and made his way to the door. He quickly grabbed his hat from the rack beside the door and the keys under it before heading out. Soon enough, Shoeshine had made it to the elevator and was met with the cement and blacktop of Manhattan.

What was he doing outside? He had no clue. It wasn't exactly a good time to see the state of the Seraphine bar- plus, Shoeshine was rather sure they were closed before six, and it was only 5:40. So, Shoeshine started walking aimlessly. He could eat at the bar, not that he was really hungry anyway.

Sunlight was good, he supposed.

A block or two away from his apartment, Shoeshine heard a scream. His ears pricked and his heart skipped a beat. Immediately, Shoeshine bolted to the other side of the block. He skidded on his heels and hopped into the bright red phonebooth on the corner. Hardly a second later, the phonebooth had burst into pieces and a white and starry trail had bolted up from it.

It seemed Underdog was there to answer the call.

Underdog flew a few more blocks until he got an overhead view of the First Retriever National bank. Sure enough, in front of it sat a red convertible. Underdog drifted down a bit just to get a better view.

A pug sat in the driver's seat and her fingers tapped impatiently against the steering wheel. Her gaze was toward the entrance of the bank. Underdog figured this was the culprit. Then again, loitering was legal in front of the bank, so he couldn't do much until a robber had proved themselves there.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later, a white dog shot out of the bank. She was very fluffy-furred, though her entire outfit was black and a mask wrapped her eyes. She held a pathetically small money bag in one hand and a gun in the other. She hopped over the wall of the red car and the pug quickly shot off.

"You've been stuck-up by _Sammy Samoyed, _suckers! That's _Sam-why!" _called the dog, shooting her gun upward. It shot a blank, but Underdog was fairly sure it wasn't at him anyway. He felt a bit of a hole in his stomach. It felt like this samoyed was coming for his brand.

Underdog quickly shot after the convertible. If tales of the past were any indication, he figured they were headed to the Poodle Street Garage. Underdog didn't really keep track of anything aside from every phonebooth location in Manhattan, but he was pretty sure the two thieves were heading that direction.

Underdog picked up speed a bit and made his way toward Poodle Street. Everytime he looked back, he could see the car. Finally, Underdog started to descend. He landed in front of the garage just in time. The samoyed's car crashed right into his gut.

The superhero cringed at the impact, and both occupants of the car gasped.

"_Underdog!" _exclaimed Sammy.

Underdog quickly got his breath back, but didn't have time to do anything before Sammy cocked her gun and started shooting. Still, nothing came out.

"What the hell?" she muttered, turning the gun on herself and repeatedly pulling the trigger. The pug, however, had different ideas. She leaned around her seat and grabbed the bag of money off the back floorboard, chucking it at Underdog. It struck him right in the chest.

Underdog quickly regained his senses and fumbled around, eventually managing to grab and hold the top of the bag. The hero floated up off the ground, baring his teeth angrily.

"If you two are done fooling around," he threatened. Both Sammy and the pug slumped down in their seats. Sammy dropped her gun and both rose their hands. Underdog went on, "I'll be taking you to the iron pound."

So Underdog did just that. He flew over them and, in one hand, held the bag of money and, in the other, both of the dogs by their shirt collars. He thought about stealing the car for a moment, but he and Polly already had one and he'd already been in more legal trouble than any superhero should've been.

Underdog dropped the two off at the nearest police station before turning around and making back toward the bank. There, he handed off the bag to the nearest teller and lit up red as he was thanked. Before he left the bank, he caught a glimpse of the time.

6:10.

Underdog sucked his teeth and rushed out of the bank and back to his apartment. The thought of flying home didn't quite strike him until he was digging around his shirt and through Shoeshine's clothes to find his keys.

Polly was sitting on the couch and texting once again. As Underdog entered their home, she turned away from her phone and smiled up at him. She hadn't gotten that prettied up; just pulled her hair back into a pony tail and threw on a red flannel over her usual black tanktop and red shorts. From the state of her swept-back hair, Underdog assumed she'd also taken a shower.

The idea didn't sound too bad, so Underdog decided to have one himself to shift back into Shoeshine-mode. Shoeshine was not a smart man by any means, and if he had done anything else besides taking a shower, the thought he had likely wouldn't of struck him.

Polly's date was named Sam. The criminal he'd just captured was named Sammy. It'd be a _huge _lie to say Polly _wasn't _into the pseudo-criminal scene. Motorcycles, slicked back and dyed hair, leather jackets and accents were _right up _Polly's alley.

But Shoeshine couldn't just _ask _the gender and breed of Polly's date, that'd be… _possessive._

When Shoeshine eventually got out of the shower and dressed, Polly was tying her shoes on the couch. Shoeshine slipped into his.

"If you insist on coming along," Polly chimed, "You can at least tie your shoes."

Shoeshine huffed. "I took a shower for you, Polly!"

Polly giggled and Shoeshine couldn't help smiling himself as he did what his roommate had asked. Polly soon took her own keys off the rack and nodded at Shoeshine for him to follow. The poodle impatiently tapped her foot against the floor of the elevator and she quickly hopped into the driver's seat of their short, silver car.

"So, Polly," Shoeshine eventually managed to ask as he buckled his seatbelt. Polly glanced up at him before she started the car. Shoeshine's heart unevenly thumped against his chest. "Would… Sam happen to be short for anything?"

Polly chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

The edge of Shoeshine's mouth twitched in the starts of a smile. "Where are your parents?"

Polly let out another light laugh. "You'll meet Sam soon enough, won't you?" she asked, "Ask 'em yourself."

That did not help to ease the knot in Shoeshine's stomach. Shoeshine wouldn't lie, there were alot of things he didn't understand about dating and romance, and meeting someone online in person was certainly one of them. Though, if Sam really _did _turn out to be Sammy Samoyed, Shoeshine was a superhero and Polly had beat him up more than once.

Eventually the two found themselves in the Seraphine parking lot. As they walked in, Polly popped the case off her phone while Shoeshine dug around in his wallet. Shoeshine was held up a minute due to the state of his license and his resemblence to Underdog, but the two managed to make it in alright. As soon as he stepped into the bar, Shoeshine felt a wave of anxiety overcome him and he hung close to his taller friend. Polly texted one more thing before putting her phone in her back pocket and lightly nudging Shoeshine with her hips.

Not very many people were at the bar, then again, it wasn't exactly prime drinking hour. Seraphine was a pale purple on the inside and was lit with pastels rather than neons.

"So," Shoeshine asked Polly, "Now what?"

"I'm not…" Polly responded, scanning the place, "Sure?" She elbowed Shoeshine's chest. "Why don't you get yourself a drink?"

"I'd rather make sure your date isn't, like, a serial killer first."

Polly let out a breath and smiled a bit. As they stood there and waited, Shoeshine crafted a small plan. If Polly got stood up, then he would tell her about his encounter with the samoyed. But, if her date showed up then he would tell her he got a bit scared, since he'd thrown a similarly-named dog into jail.

Polly frowned and went to reach for her phone again. It hadn't buzzed, so both knew that Polly hadn't gotten any messages. Just as she touched it, a voice called out.

"Polly?"

Both dogs jumped and turned around. A few feet behind them stood a white-furred dog with pricked ears, somehow noticeably shorter than Shoeshine's pathetic 5'2" body. They had bangs with a teal streak in them. Their clothing matched Polly's interests- torn black jeans, a teal shirt, and a leather jacket.

"Sam!" Polly exclaimed, taking a step closer. Shoeshine followed. On Sam's lapel was a button- two shades of orange, a line of white, and two shades of pink. Printed on top was _she/her._

"Hi!" Sam greeted, "I'm sorry, I got caught in traffic and my phone died."

"Oh, it's okay!" Polly laughed, sweeping back a loose strand of hair.

Sam certainly had an accent, but it was less of the New York mobster that Polly was attracted to and more like English wasn't her first language.

Sam smiled, "I know you said you were a poodle, Polly, but I didn't expect you to be so pretty."

Polly turned pink and grabbed one arm with the other. "O-oh! Thank you."

Sam then faced Shoeshine. "And who's this?"

"This is my roommate," Polly introduced, nudging Shoeshine in the arm as a sign for him to speak.

"Shoeshine," he said with a nod, extending his hand. Sam took it and nodded back. "Pure mutt."

"Oh! Sam," Polly said before Shoeshine could leave them, "Shoeshine here wanted to know if _Sam _was short for anything."

Sam laughed, "Sammie."

Shoeshine blinked and stiffened. "S..._Sammy?"_

Sam nodded, "Yes. _S-A-M-M-I-E."_

"...oh," Shoeshine muttered. "Oh. Well. _Uhhhh, _seeya!"

With that, Shoeshine stepped backward and rushed off toward the bar at the other end of the building. Polly laughed as he left, but Shoeshine was very embarrassed. Polly and Sam had a good time together while Shoeshine got absolutely wasted.

The next morning, Shoeshine had an awful hangover.

"What was that about, anyway?" Polly asked.

"_Huh?"_ responded Shoeshine, crumpled on the couch and using his cape as a blanket.

Polly stood over him, with her hand on either side of the couch's arm. "You wanting to know if Sam was short for anything."

"_Ohhh…" _Shoeshine sounded, "Well. See, I turned in a woman named Sammy, but with a Y. And _yooouu _like girls..."

Polly laughed. "You thought I was about to bang a crook, huh?"

Shoeshine blinked and stopped putting emotion into his voice. "Did you bang Sam, Polly?"

Polly smirked maliciously. "I'll never tell."

Shoeshine let out an airy laugh and beamed, closing his eyes. He pressed a hand to his forehead as Polly moved off of him. "God I... Hate you."


End file.
